


Pull Back the Curtains

by PandorasMusicalBox



Series: I've Fallen to My Knees [2]
Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Cowboy (?), Cowgirl Position, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6407584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandorasMusicalBox/pseuds/PandorasMusicalBox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m just going to take a piss. I’ll be back.”</p><p>And so he walks. It’s not far until he feels a hand cover his mouth and an arm wrapped around his torso and biceps, effectively trapping him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull Back the Curtains

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel no one asked for.
> 
> My only question: is it still called cowgirl if it's a man riding?
> 
> Title from Back Against The Wall by Cage the Elephant.

Ajay listens to Amita as she lays out the plan for attacking Pagan Min. They're currently stationed in Utkarsh, most of the rebel soldiers gathered around a tiny table.

He doesn’t find the plan entirely boring - Royal Army soldiers firing in everyone’s faces certainly gets the adrenaline pumping - but Ajay can't help but think back to Sabal. He hadn’t bathed since the encounter and the sticky mess that dribbled out onto his underwear reminds him of everything. A whiff of Sabal comes up, that sweaty scent of spices and the Kyrat outside. Ajay looks around, but it only seems to be the mercenary next to him, leaning a tad too close. He pulls his shirt over his mouth and breathes through it.

“Everyone understand? Good. It is of the utmost importance that we kill Pagan Min and take back Kyrat!”

The rebels erupt into cheers and shouts, some banging on tables and others stomping their feet. It feels all too hot for Ajay; the momentous excitement that races through his veins along with a spark of relief before the battle, that all the fighting will finally be over. 

Everyone clears out, except for Amita and Ajay. Due to the sheer body count, many of the rebels had to share beds. Even so, some had to sleep on the floors. Amita had told Ajay they would share a bed in the safehouse, and Ajay didn't complain. Both of them did not know many soldiers personally and Amita trusted Ajay - she was the first and only woman leader in the Golden Path. All of the religious soldiers held traditional views of the women and Amita didn't trust them to not try anything. If anything did happen, she would have cut off their fingers one by one, but she'd rather not go through the trouble on what should be the last day of fighting. 

“Ajay.”

Her words startle him and he is quickly pulled out of thought. He stares at her, feeling strange and confused.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Amita rolls her eyes and gives an exasperated sigh. She turns around and shakes her head, hands on her hips.

“Ajay, we really need you right now. I need you. We have to win this.” She turns towards him. All he can manage is a quick nod, nervousness pooling in his gut. 

Out of the window, Ajay spies the shadows shift. A sense of dread fills him. “I'll be right back,” he tells Amita, before rushing outside. 

The guards all shout when they see him. “Hey, Ajay! Excited for tomorrow?” They continue to shout questions and encouragements at him, but he waves them off.

“I’m just going to take a piss. I’ll be back.”

And so he walks. It’s not far until he feels a hand cover his mouth and an arm wrapped around his torso and biceps, effectively trapping him. He doesn’t scream, not at the first moment and not when the figure behind him drags him behind a thick tree, away from the sights of any Golden Path soldiers. He doesn’t even flinch when the figure bites into his ear, licking into the shell. The fingers push into his mouth and he coats them with saliva, sucking on all of them.

“Oh, Kyra…” Sabal shudders behind him. His hips erratically thrust against Ajay’s arse, and Ajay finds himself melting once again.

“Sabal.” Ajay speaks with fingers still in his mouth, except they start to push in deeper, wet fingertips pushing against the sides of his cheeks. The arm wrapped around him starts to drop. Its open palm traces over his chest, navel, and ends at his crotch, softly cupping the straining fabric. Ajay thrusts up against the touch, seeking friction. 

The older man spins him around and pushes him against the tree, capturing his mouth in a kiss and pushing at Ajay’s erection through his clothes. Ajay moans into Sabal, moans when the exiled man's tongue dominates his, moans when Sabal’s fingers wrap in his hair and tug him closer until they're a single entity, unseparated with need and desire. 

Sabal pulls back, pupils blown wide and shared spit dribbling down his chin. Ajay pants, leaving his tongue hanging out of his mouth and waits. The older man stares at the pink tongue, at the wet, red lips surrounding it, and swallows thickly. 

He pulls the man closes again and their tongues twist together. Sabal groans into Ajay’s mouth. His fingers leave the younger Kyrati’s hair and begin to unzip his jacket, pushing all his layers of clothing aside and running his hands through the dark chest hair. Ajay sighs when Sabal’s mouth leaves his. His lips brush over the bruises on Ajay’s throat, over the scars the younger man had since gained from his participation in the rebellion. 

“Sabal.”

The name turns into a chant as Ajay grips his shoulders. His tongue swirls around a nipple, the other one being flicked by Sabal’s calloused hand. 

The man glances upwards. Lust swirls in the green eyes and Ajay swallows nervously.

“Yes, brother?”

The whisper is hot breath that dusts over Ajay’s skin. He shivers.

“Sit down. I, ah, want to...be on top.”

They trade places, Sabal sitting on the damp grass, leaning against the tree. Ajay crawls on top of him, sans pants and underwear, and traps the man’s hands between Ajay’s legs, against Sabal’s outer thighs. There is a wolfish smile on his face, full of deviousness, and he stares at the younger Kyrati’s mouth. He leans forward, but is halted when Ajay taps two fingers against his lips.

“Suck.”

Sabal glances between the fingers on his mouth and Ajay’s face. The younger man's heart flutters, his stomach drops, and he feels sweat drip down his neck.

The older man captures the fingers between his lips and sucks obscenely. Ajay groans at the feeling of a tongue tracing his digits, and yet he cannot move from Sabal’s gaze. Sabal must notice this, as he pulls the fingers deep into his mouth. A fingernail scrapes the inside of his cheek, but Sabal isn't fazed - he still sucks with a fervent passion, twirling his tongue around each knuckle.

Ajay pulls his fingers back. A loud pop echoes around the two, Sabal still wolfishly grinning. The man on top rests his dry hand - his right hand - on Sabal’s shoulder and leans into the man below him. A single digit pushes at the first ring of muscle and Ajay gasps. He starts pumping the finger in and out while staring at Sabal. His eyes flutter close as he inserts another finger. He can still feel the older man’s gaze on him, feel his hands pull free from his thighs, his calloused hands tracing up his outer thighs, and finally resting on his hips. 

“Sabal, I need…” 

He pulls his fingers out of him and whines at their loss, but his fingers are already tugging at Sabal’s pants, pulling the zipper down and fumbling with his underwear. The older man’s cock is larger than he remembers. He roughly grasps it, jerking his hand for a moment, then shifts his hips forward and aims the member in his hand below him.

The younger man sinks down and they both release gasps; Sabal’s fingers are digging into his hips. 

“Okay?”

Ajay nods. His hips lift back up then fall again. He quickly finds a slow pace as he adjusts to Sabal’s dick inside of him. He groans at the feeling of it splitting him in two, pushing his walls farther apart. Sabal is whispering into his ear, but Ajay can't hear it. He can feel Sabal growling against his neck. 

He steadies himself using the exiled man’s shoulders, then plunges down again with a quick pace. The younger Kyrati is bouncing on Sabal’s lap, feeling his dick rubbing inside of him, leaving fire burning in his nerves. One thrust hits his prostrate and sends Ajay into a bumbling mess, moaning and bucking against Sabal’s chest.

His knees are shaking and his thrusts downwards start to slow. Sabal captures his lips, licking into Ajay’s mouth, and begins to thrust upwards. Ajay lets him take control, lets him aim at the bundle of nerves inside of him that turns his legs to jelly and pushes moans out of his mouth, and Sabal does. His thrusts turn erratic and his tongue twists sharply against Ajay’s. 

“Sabal, I'm...I'm gonna…”

Sabal growls into his mouth. He thrusts harder, deeper, faster, and Ajay grasps against him, trying to find purchase as he feels himself falling deeper and deeper. 

“Come,” Sabal whispers in his ear, and Ajay is screaming, shaking, as his cock twitches. White spurts out of his dick and lands in thick ropes across Sabal’s shirt. He’s still dizzy as Sabal thrusts a few more times. He bites into Ajay’s shoulder and releases his hot seed into the younger man.

They both still. Sabal’s softening member falls out of Ajay, followed by dripping come. And they just stay there, Ajay softly breathing against Sabal while he holds him in his arms. 

“Sorry about the mess.” Sabal chuckles above him.

“It is fine, brother.” 

It's another few moments before Ajay gets up and dresses himself. Sabal stands up and watches him, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping the zipper up. Ajay doesn't want to leave, but he's already been gone for some time now; five more minutes, perhaps, and the Golden Path would start looking for him. The older Kyrati understands this, and pulls Ajay close. Their lips press together, gentle. A goodbye kiss. They both know this, and Sabal is the first to pull back. His forehead rests against Ajay’s. “I trust you, to do the right thing.”

Ajay nods. Sabal smiles softly, the walks past Ajay, back into the wilderness, back to where Ajay won’t find him.

He returns to the safehouse, carefully avoiding the guards when they rotate positions. He slips inside and doesn’t let the red door slam behind him. Amita is asleep in the bed, facing the wall and away from Ajay. He pulls his jacket and boots off then slips into the bed next to the Golden Path leader, although he doesn’t face her.

She rolls over, perhaps being momentarily roused by Ajay’s shifting of the bed or having always been awake, and drapes her arm over his body.

Amita’s touch against his skin feels cold.

\\\//

Ajay kicks the palace door open, immediately pointing his gun at the man in the pink suit. Pagan smiles, all demon teeth and no sincerity in his face. “Come in!” He announces, turning around to face a shelf filled with various alcohols. “I apologize for the austerity, I sent the help home.” Ajay almost snorts at Pagan’s ostentatious language.

“Chances are, you shot them on your way in.” He picks a bottle, opens it and sniffs it. “Now, before we begin…” Pagan turns around and stares at Ajay, mock confusion in his face. “Ah...to whom am I speaking? Hm?

“The son who returned to scatter his mother’s ashes,” the man gestures with his left hand while speaking. “Or the lunatic who has murdered his way to the top of my mountain?”

He pauses, and so does Ajay. The young Kyrati drops his weapon and Pagan continues towards the table, opening the bottle of liquor in his hands.

“If I was speaking to the first guy, then I would say sit down, let’s be civilized, enjoy some food.” Pagan poured some of the sloshing liquid into a goblet on one extreme end of the table. He glances up at Ajay and purses his lips.

“But we tried that before, didn’t we? At our first meeting, you sat right here.” He gestures to the seat he’s near, pulling Ajay’s eyes towards the empty chair. “Paul was off applying voltage to the nipples of your rude little plus one. I stood just like this,” Pagan says, straightening his posture, hands peacefully resting above his navel. “And what were my exact words?”

The king of Kyrat speaks slowly. “Ah. ‘Stay here. Enjoy the Crab Rangoon. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.’”

He walks towards the other extreme end of the table, Ajay tracing his every movement with his eyes. His fingers rest upon the gun in his belt.

“Now, if you had just listened, just waited for me,” Pagan pours the liquor into his goblet. “Then we would have come back here straight away, together, and scattered your mother’s ashes.” He puts the bottle back on the bar. “So you must be the second guy, who didn’t listen, and decided instead to join the other monkeys and start throwing his shit around.” Ajay’s fingers twitch.

Pagan stares at him. Ajay doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, the way the other man’s eyes don’t leave his face, not dropping to look at the guns in his belt and not to notice the way Ajay’s fingers shake and the way he swallows with the taste of Sabal still in his mouth.

“But I’ll tell you what, I call a do-over!”

The man sits at the table and smiles at the younger man. “Hm? I say you have two choices. One, you could shoot me, boring.” Pagan rolls his eyes and Ajay almost laughs at the way the king is playing his cards, as if he holds control of the board. The strings of his mind are slowly unravelling into the chaos that is the rebellion.

“Or you could sit down, enjoy some food and you and I will go scatter your mother’s ashes, together.” Pagan hastily takes a bite of food, chewing fast and resting his elbow on the table. Ajay pulls the gun up and aims at the square of the man’s forward. His eyes challenge him, waiting for a shot Ajay might not even be able to take.

Without a thought, he pulls the trigger.

Ajay’s world turns red. The blood spurting out of the former king sprays everywhere, bits of brain pulled out with the bullet. The fork clatters loudly on the table. Pagan Min’s mouth is frozen open in a scream and his body is pulled backwards with the force of the shot, but ultimately slumps over, face smashing into his barely eaten Crab Rangoon.

\\\//

After all the celebrations and booze and hemp, Ajay drives across Kyrat. He finds Amita in a small village, surrounding by screaming citizens and former rebel soldiers. Amita herself faces on soldier, away from Ajay.

“I want you to go into every home, and find every child. Every child. You bring them back here, to me. Go.”

The soldier nods and runs into the nearest house, machine gun hitting against his thigh. Ajay holds Amita’s shoulder and turns her around, to look into her eyes.

“What’s going on?”

Amita’s eyes search Ajay’s face. “We need more soldiers to fight the holdouts from the Royal Army and I need to start thinking about Kyrat’s future. We have opium field to protect, laws to enforce, workers to keep in line.”

“So you’re forcing the people to join the Golden Path?”

Amita huffs and turns away. Her tone mocks Ajay, that he wouldn’t understand the sacrifices she makes. “I’m sacrificing our liberties for peace later.” She spins around, hands on her hips. “You can either get in line or get out of the way.”

A family of civilians are rushed out of their homes. The father is crying, pleading with the soldiers that push their guns into his head. “Please, let my children go. They are all we have. Please.”

Ajay stands stunned as Amita walks up to man and smacks the side of his head with an open palm. “This is a good thing! Your children will help Kyrat become a better place. If you love Kyrat, you will turn around, go into your homes. Or, I will have you shot.” The family, upon hearing her words, rushes back into their house, sobbing.

Ajay catches Amita’s eyes and begins to stalk towards her. “Why are you doing this?”

Amita sighs. “I’m doing what’s best for my country.” She begins to walk away, from Ajay and away from the village she just ordered torn apart.

“And what about Bhadra?”

Amita pauses.

“What does she have to say about this?” Ajay follows Amita’s path, until he’s right next to her.

“It doesn’t matter what she has to say. I’ve sent her away.” The Golden Path leader looks at Ajay, a pang of sadness in her eyes. She turns back towards the bridge and resumes her stride. “I don’t need a ‘tarun matara’ here for our enemies to rally behind.”

“Sent her away? Really? Where?”

“It’s not your concern. And don’t bother trying to find her. Bhadra’s not coming back.” Ajay’s blood freezes. It’s in this moment, he realizes Amita’s actions, Amita’s sins. She walks across the bridge.

Ajay follows her, pulls out his pistol, and aims at the back of her head.

He pulls the trigger.


End file.
